


Even Broken

by Attenia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Romance, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 09:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21372127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: A drunk night leads to Dean finally giving in to the desire for his best friend that has plagued him for years. In the heat of the moment, he ends up revealing more than he intended to, and Cas just won’t let it go. Trigger warnings for self-harm and panic attacks.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 50





	Even Broken

Dean knew he would regret this in the morning, but right now, all he was interested in was getting Cas’ clothes off as quickly as possible. He was drunk and he knew that he had a reason for fighting his attraction to Cas for years, but right now, he couldn’t seem to remember it.  
Cas wasn’t helping, moaning in a way that made Dean achingly hard. The angel was now naked and undressing Dean. Lost in a haze of pleasure, Dean let it happen without thinking.  
Then everything stopped.  
“Dean – what happened?” Cas gently took his hands, turning his arms so that the forearms faced upward.  
With a thrill of fear, Dean was jolted back to reality. He yanked his arms back, but it was too late. All lust on Castiel’s face was replaced with concern. “I can heal you.”  
“No!” Dean jumped back, out of reach, quickly folding his arms over his stomach, but it was too late to hide the long lines of cuts.   
“How did you sustain those injuries? You said that the Wendigo didn’t hurt you.”  
“It didn’t!” Dean defended, realizing too late that he should have blamed this on the most recent hunt.   
“Then how, Dean?”  
“I – it’s nothing, Cas. Just… don’t heal it, ok? Promise me before you touch me again.”  
Cas’ head was tilted to the side in confusion. “I don’t understand.”  
“You don’t need to. Just ignore it, ok? It’s what everyone else does, it’s not that difficult.”  
“Everyone else?”  
“You know that I’m not exactly a virgin, right? It’s not a big deal. Come on, let’s take this to the bed.”  
Dean captured Castiel’s lips, and the angel groaned helplessly into the kiss.   
He not only managed to distract Cas, but had the best night of his life finally acting on thoughts he’d had for years. Dean was foolish to have hoped that would be the end of it.  
The next day, Cas brought it up at breakfast – in front of Sam.  
“Are you going to tell me how you got those injuries now, Dean?”  
“What?” Sam’s voice was like a door snapping shut. “You’re injured?”  
“No,” Dean lied.   
“Yes, he is, and he won’t let me heal him. His arms.”  
Of course, that was it for Dean. Sam wrestled his arms into view, gasping at what he saw. “Dean? Why?”  
Dean shrugged, not able to find the words to explain.  
“How long?”  
No way was he answering that. Dean glared at the table. “Can I have my arms back now?”  
“I don’t understand, Sam.”  
“Cas, these types of wounds… they’re self-inflicted.”  
He could feel both of them looking at him, but Dean continued glowering at the table. Cas’ hand under his chin gently tilted his head up. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself, Dean.”  
“Yeah, well, it’s not your decision, is it?”  
Cas looked so sad, Dean almost took it back, but he couldn’t do that. Without another word, he went to his room. They’d forget about this soon enough. They had to.  
Sam and Cas both tried to check Dean’s arms over the next few weeks, but he flatly refused. He needed this, and they just didn’t understand. It was the only thing that made him happy. He couldn’t go on without it.  
Every time he saw Cas, the angel was staring at Dean with great concentration, as though trying to figure him out. Dean hated it, and started avoiding both him and Sam.   
He was doing his usual daily cutting when Cas suddenly appeared in the mirror behind him. Dean jumped badly and swore as the blade sliced deeper than he intended.  
“Dean!”  
“Fuck off, Cas! Just because you can fly past a locked door doesn’t mean you should.”  
Cas ignored him, grabbing a bandage from the medicine cabinet. At least he was respecting Dean’s wish not to be healed, but Dean wasn’t in the mood to appreciate that right now. He grimaced as Cas bandaged him, though he couldn’t help but feel lighthearted as he always did after cutting.   
“What are you even doing here?”  
“I have been learning to modify my prayer response receptors to you.”  
“Um… what?”  
“I think I have it right, now. I can tell when you are distressed, whether or not you pray for me.”  
Fuck. Dean was utterly screwed, and not in the pleasant way. “Well, you can just go right ahead and modify them back. I don’t want you knowing when I’m ‘distressed’.”  
“I do not trust you to make that judgement call, Dean.”  
Dean wanted scream. He wanted to curl up on the floor and cry. Things were hard enough without his best coping mechanism being taken away.   
Castiel was as bad as his word. Every time Dean felt like cutting – and a number of times when he was feeling like crap but hadn’t even resorted to thoughts of cutting yet – Cas was there. It was driving Dean insane.   
“You need to stop,” he pleaded as Cas wrestled yet another blade out of his hand. “Please, Cas, I’m begging you. I need this. I need it.”  
“No, you don’t. You are harming yourself, Dean.”  
Maybe it was a good thing. If there was one thing that would push Dean into finally taking the plunge, it was this. Everything built and built until he couldn’t take it anymore. The question was how to do it without Cas interfering. He would absolutely be able to tell, what with his annoying new power.   
Dean had it all planned out. He collected some blood from a hunt, since he couldn’t cut himself anymore, and used it to paint an angel-banishing sigil in his room. Knowing he’d have only minutes, he hung the rope from a sturdy hook in the ceiling.  
Cas appeared at once, but Dean was ready. He slapped his hand to the sigil, and Cas vanished. Dean leapt onto the chair he had ready, slipping the noose around his neck. With a sigh of relief, knowing it would all be over soon, he kicked the chair from under him.  
The pain was intense and awful, but it didn’t last long. The world faded to black…

Dean opened his eyes to see Castiel’s blue ones staring right into his. No, that didn’t make sense. He was surely bound for hell, not heaven.   
“What are you doing here?” He was shocked to see tears overflowing from Cas’ lids.   
“Don’t you ever do that to me again, Dean Winchester! Another few minutes and I’d have lost you. If I hadn’t taken steps to reduce the effects of the banishing sigils… I need you, Dean. Please.”  
Dean opened his mouth to say something smart… and burst into tears.   
He wasn’t dead after all. He was alive, and he could think of no worse hell than this. Before he could think to struggle, Cas was pulling him into a hug. “I love you, Dean. Please, you have to stay with me.”  
This only had the effect of making him cry harder. Dean completely fell apart in his angel’s arms. “I – I l-love you – t-too – Cas – but I – I c-c-can’t –”  
“Shh, it’s ok.” Cas pulled Dean’s head to his shoulder. “I will help you. You just need to let me.”  
“Don’t – d-deserve –”  
“Yes, you do. You deserve everything, Dean. I’ll spend eternity making you see that if I must.”  
He lost track of how long he wept piteously in Castiel’s arms. At some point, Dean hiccoughed himself into silence, but Cas still didn’t release him. He found he didn’t mind. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this safe.   
“I’m broken, Cas,” he whispered. “You can’t fix me.”  
“You’re ill, but your illness is treatable. Sam and I aren’t going to let you do this by yourself anymore. We’ve booked you an appointment with a psychiatrist tomorrow – and before you say you won’t be able to talk to her, she was saved from a ghost by a hunter a couple of years ago. You can tell her everything, and she won’t think you’re crazy for it.”  
Dean felt tears prickling behind his eyes again. He was caught between panic and relief. Panic that his secrets were out, and relief that he wouldn’t be left to fight alone anymore. “Thank you,” he whispered. They were silent for a time before he voiced another thought. “Did you mean it?”  
“That I love you? Of course I meant it.”  
“I thought I was the only one.”  
“No, you never were. Sam said I shouldn’t scare you away, though. He said that it was obvious you returned my feelings, but you’d likely run if I confronted you about it.”  
That was probably true. Dean sighed, relief starting to win out over panic. “I still say you can’t fix me.”  
“Even broken, Dean, I’ll still love you.”  
A part of him unclenched at these words. Maybe, just maybe, Cas was right. Perhaps things didn’t need to be like this.   
For the first time in as long as he could remember, Dean felt hope.


End file.
